Slayer of the World
by Senju Kun
Summary: Harry James Potter. Fate had destined a merciless path for him. At the end, he would have found glory, but the price would have been very high. But it all changes when a certain King of Heroes seeks him out. Campione Harry. A very dark shade of grey Harry. Contains elements from HP Verse, Campione Verse. (Warning: Rated M for extreme violence.) Rewriting
1. A Touch of Death

**A/n: Hello everyone. This is the rewritten version.**

**Disclaimer: Everything is owned by their respective owners.**

**Chapter 1 – A Touch of Death**

The sound of rubber tires crunching through the dirt and pebbles of country side road came to gradual stop as the rumbling engine of the car quieted down in this chilly night. When it fully came to halt, the car door, which usually made a loud clicking noise when opened, creaked cringingly as it was opened tentatively and slowly.

"Vernon, what if someone finds out?" The female occupant inside the car, whose face was shadowed by the darkness of the night, whispered out with anxiousness in her voice.

A straight weak ray of light suddenly burst into existence, when the man named Vernon, switched on his torch to see around in this moonless environment. Giving his torch a few solid thumping, he grunted in dissatisfaction as it failed to light up in its full potential.

"Bah! Stupid thing…" he gave up and then fumbling against the door handle, swung open it wider. "If you keep freaking out like that, then someone will really find out." He disgruntledly said.

Opening the back door, he placed the torch in his mouth and holding it in place with his teeth, he leaned inside and took hold of something and began to drag it outside, revealing it as a plastic bag of about half his height. Huffing as he did so, he unceremoniously threw it down with a thud on the grassy ground and leaned against his car to catch his breath.

Looking down at his big rotund belly, he played with the idea of shedding those off. Maybe then, he wouldn't have to sweat like a pig after just doing a menial task like this one. 'Oh, who am I kidding? This is the sign of being well-off.' He thought and peered inside the car.

"Oi Petunia, if someone asks where the boy is? We say…" he trailed off, signaling her to continue.

"…that… that… he went to play outside… and… and never came back." Petunia tried to answer.

"Absolutely! And don't have fret much over this issue. Those military guys said that they will handle all the legal matters, OK?"

"Ok!" Not knowing what to do, Petunia could only nod meekly as she gave a sideways glance at the plastic bag. 'I hope you will forgive me, Lily.' She remorsefully thought. She didn't want this to happen. It felt very wrong for her to do this to her… nephew.

'NO, freak!' she tried to assert. Vernon had assured her that, they were only doing a huge favor to her late sister by doing this. And looking at that freak, she couldn't agree more.

She knew what he was, she knew what he was capable of, and she also knew the boundaries of his kind's capabilities; Lily was not the only one who read extra in her youth. She knew that these wizards, while powerful, had many disabilities and handicapping factors too. Those disabilities and handicapping factors, which her freak of a nephew did not show.

It was terrifying.

"Alright then, if I remember correctly, they said the place is around here. I will return soon after disposing off this… waste. So, if anyone comes, say that my husband has gone for a quick leak."

Brought out of her train of thought, she silently nodded and closed the car doors, while trying to make her as inconspicuous as she could by turning off all the inner car lights. To tell the truth, the thought of remaining alone – even for few minutes – in this dreary looking jungle of an uncharted place was bone chilling. She just hoped that her husband will back soon.

And as for her husband, the large figure of Vernon picked up the bag and began to stumble his way through the uneven grounds. After few minutes had passed, he began to feel queasy bit apprehensive about all this. Pessimistic thoughts were beginning to permeate his mind.

'What if the drug wore off? What if this freak is awake this whole time? What if….'

"Goddammit!" He cried out aloud as he fell down in a heap after having his foot caught in a stray vine across the forest bed. He should have been more careful, and careful he was; but after hearing the sound of nearby stream – the designated place – he had grown excited. Cursing up a storm, he quickly gathered his bearings and looked for his 'waste'.

'Shit!'

His breath rate suddenly skyrocketed as irrational fear began to course through him as he came face to face with a pale face of a very young boy with deep jet black hair. The plastic bag must have ripped open when it fell, resulting in just the head of his freakish nephew to pop out of it. Gulping large volumes of air with each breath, he tried to thump down his thundering heart that was straining to provide enough blood to his larger than life body.

"That was a close one." He muttered in relief as he wiped away the beads of sweat from his forehead with his meaty hand. He was afraid to think of what might have happened if his freak of nephew really waked up. He shuddered; strange and dangerous things that he dare not mention happened to people who had provoked this boy.

And since he was in no mood to become his latest victim, he wanted this over as soon as possible. So hastily picking up the bag, he made a beeline for the stream. And when he reached there…

"Freedom," he cried out in joy as he stood at the bank, careful not to fall, and looked down at the fast running water of narrow looking stream. Not wanting to waste any more time, he hefted the boy in the bag and with a big splash, threw it into the shallow water of this raging stream.

"Goodbye freak!" He waved his hands with a childish enthusiasm. Relief washed away over his body, when the sight of the boy disappeared immediately under the running water. Then as though remembering something, he rummaged into his breast pocket and brought out a broken spectacle.

"And take this memento with you!" And then, threw that too.

He felt really euphoric at this moment. Chest bloated with happiness, he felt like dancing around like a peacock to celebrate this moment. Even the tiredness and fatigue of carrying the questionable bag for all this time had mysteriously disappeared. Oh the joy cruising in his veins, it was indescribable. He felt jumping up in delight. Finally, he had gotten rid of the pest that had infested his humble abode for last nine years. Right now, it was time for celebrations. Getting impatient to break this wonderful news to his wife, with a visible spring on his steps Vernon Dursley basically skipped on his way back to his car; whistling jauntily all the way.

XXx

"Petunia!" a very happy Vernon Dursley rapped on the door of the car. "Petunia!" he again called out, a bit louder.

"How the hell she fell asleep this soon!" Vernon mused out loud in a confused voice, whilst fumbling for his torch.

"Oh, maybe that's because she has decided to leave this world." An utterly unexpected soft whisper chillingly spoke in his air, raising the hair on the back of his neck. Psyched out, he shrieked like a whiny little girl and fell back on his flabby behind.

"Hello… dear Uncle!" His nephew greeted him with large lopsided grin.

Seeing his supposedly taken care of nephew, Vernon wasn't surprised in the least. He knew that it all felt too easy. Something hadn't felt right to him. Something was horribly off about this whole deal. He knew it all along. However, the prospect of getting rid of his freak of a nephew had overshadowed any rational thoughts, and he had made a mistake. And now, because of that one impulsive mistake, he knew he was a dead meat.

"B-before y-you do any-anything, j-just let me t-tell y-you …AARRGGHHH…" The blabbering and stuttering mess of a man suddenly cried out in agony, courtesy of unseen blades of magic. All that remained of his hands were bloody stumps that were spouting streams of blood in a manner similar to water fountain.

Meanwhile, Harry shook his head at the slobbering fool at his feet and kicked him to create a respectable distance between them. Last thing he wanted right now in his current stated of mood was stain of blood on his body – which was devoid of any clothes at the moment. His uncle, too greedy to even part with a rag tag pair clothes of his Duddykins.

Or maybe he just didn't want him to have anything that belonged to Dursley family.

"Drug, really? I expected better from you, Vernon." Harry spoke in a disappointed tone. He then casually bent down to pick a small flower in his hands and began to slowly pluck at its petals one by one, all the while keeping a disapproving looking gaze on his now disabled uncle.

"When I first beat the shit out of Dudley for the stunt he pulled on me, and then healed him so that I can again torture him to madness," pausing there, he plucked another petal and continued, "I thought you will do something epic in the false hope of avenging your Douchely."

Vernon, who was having difficulty to form coherent words because of the agonizing pain originating from where his arms used to be, tried to speak, "Please… please, I beg you!... Spare me! This will never happen again. I promise you!" He began to cry.

If mercy was what Vernon had hoped for, he must have felt really down when instead of doing as he had pleaded, Harry began to laugh out loud in hollow mirth.

"Oh boy, that was ridiculous!" the naked boy stated deliriously. Stepping closer, he looked at the ugly, tears splotched face of Vernon and scoffed. Then he leaned a bit forward and lifting his hand with the flower that had few of its petals plucked off in front of him, he asked, "Anyway, tell me Vernon, what you think this is?"

Puzzled by his question, Vernon tried to assert a bit of control on his pitiful sobs and because of the darkness, squinted his eyes to get a better view of whatever the boy was showing.

"It's… it's…" suddenly a heavy lead like feeling settled into his stomach as he realized what had happened.

"PETUNIA!" he screamed out. He tried to lunge at Harry, his pain forgotten. "I WILL KILL YOU DEVIL SPAWN!" He cried out in absolute boiling rage. He didn't care he was now handless, he didn't care he could not punch the teeth out; he just wanted to hit him, and in his vengeful mind, he was sure that the legs will do fine.

But unfortunately for Vernon, his nephew acted faster. Casting a blasting spell, Harry blew away the only remaining limbs of his uncle in a shower of blood and gore.

"Not so fast dear uncle." Harry said with a touch of cynicism in his voice. "After all, there is something I have to tell you."

Making sure that he has got the full attention of the now totally disabled man – who was writhing from pain on the ground, he said in a lackadaisical manner, "Remember the body bag you threw back there. Because … by now… I believe Vernon Jr. has left us, courtesy of you throwing him down in river back there."

Having said what he had to say, Harry ignored the sudden howling of his uncle and got rid of his 'aunt' by throwing it upon the bloody figure of Vernon. Then scoffing at their pitiful state, he lifted his right hand in front of him and chanted one of the most powerful spells he knew, "Fiendfyre!"

Beads of sweat trailed down from his temple as a gargantuan torrent of blazing hot fire came into existence in front of his extended hand. Taking the shape of some kind of serpent like beast, the sentient like flaming hell monster spearheaded towards the wildly shrilling figure of the limbless man and his transfigured wife – and when it went away, nothing but charred and blackened ground remained, wafting off smoke that smelled of brimstone and sulphur.

And despondently watching all this, Harry Potter felt a sense of satisfaction flow through him. People will definitely tag him as monster for doing what he just did, but he would not let that affect him. Here, the Dursleys created their own hell and he was the devil that was born in it. He was no saint, nor an angel, and he was not going to pretend he was.

*Clap* *Clap* *Clap*

Suddenly, the sound of someone clapping rang around the silent surroundings.

"Afflicted by the stain of an immortal snake, the child touched by Death… Harry Potter, I have found you." A powerful voice deliriously called out.

"Who's there?" Harry warily asked, swerving his head around wildly. He cursed under his breath. It was time like this when he longed for the perfect eyesight. After some effort, all he saw was a blurry figure of someone standing, maybe a foot or two away in front of him. He again cursed, this time cursing Vernon for throwing away his glasses.

"Such impudence… You dare try to lay your filthy eyes upon a god without consent… "

Suddenly, Harry felt the air getting flooded by killing intent, saturating it sickeningly, thickening it darkly, and making it heavy to breathe. Initially, he had dismissed it as nothing, but now it was growing heavier by each passing moment. His heart grew restless.

'W-what's this?' Harry thought wearily. An unnatural feeling was coursing through him, causing his body to tremble involuntarily. It was pressing down heavily on him, like it was trying to subjugate him to the might of someone far greater than him. Suddenly, Harry felt like he was nothing more than an insignificant insect in the grander scale of things. The power rolling off the person across him was terrifyingly vast.

Then abruptly, Harry felt himself going down to his knees on the ground, breathing laboriously. He felt his eyes droop heavily as the energy in his body sapped out like water coming out from the squeezed sponge. Sweat dripped down to the ground from the tip of his nose as he leaned forward with his hands against the ground – even kneeling was getting difficult.

Casting a heavy gaze at what looked like a figure of adult male standing in front of him, Harry blinked several times to drive away the haze which had annoyingly filled his vision. When it went slowly away, Harry quietly breathed a sigh of relief when he felt his normal vision reasserting itself. It was still far from perfect due to his poor eyesight, but now, it was at least manageable.

"Who are you?" he growled out. And the moment he asked that, the killing intent skyrocketed sharply. Harry gasped as he suddenly found himself lifted in the air by his neck.

"You worthless dog! You dare to insult me – the King of Heroes; Gilgamesh. I should take your head for this." The man sounded heavily affronted. It was like he was very annoyed by the notion of someone not recognizing him.

Struggling to pull himself always from the ridiculously strong grip he found himself in, Harry glared daggers at the man. 'What in the bloody hell does this lunatic want?'

From this close, he could pick out some individual features of the man. Even though the expression of fury was botching the elegancy a bit, he could easily tell that the man in front of him was something different. His poor eyes could not tell him in much detail, but the golden haired man garbed in garish, opulent clothes screamed danger to his instincts.

His mind raced to think of way to get out of Gilgamesh's grasp. The shortage of air in his lungs was making itself known in a rather discomforting way. His face had started to turn blue from it.

Since any offensive magic he knew of was out of the way because of him being this close, he swung back and kicked the blonde haired man square on the face, causing the grip to loosen slightly. Grabbing this opportunity, he planted his both feet on the chest of the man and pushed off.

"Get the hell away from me!" he roared. And as soon as their proximity was reduced, not giving much time to Gilgamesh to compose himself, he flooded his palms with magic and shouted, "Diffindo!"

He followed the cutting spell with a quick series of blasting hexes, and some more variety of offensives spells that he knew of. He gave special attention to make sure that they all caused pain in one form or other.

Breathing heavily, he cast a wary glance at Gilgamesh… and promptly felt a dreadful feeling settling into his stomach.

'How is…

…this possible?" Across him, Gilgamesh eerily finished his thought with a smirk plastered on his immaculate face. Not a single spot on him look ruffled. Not even a single scratch. There was no indication that he was just bombarded by a series of spells that would have toppled a troll effortlessly.

"You must be thinking this, right?" The blonde man mockingly said while looking down his nose.

"W-what? H-how?" Harry asked in a stunned voice.

"Because… I am god." Gilgamesh proclaimed, causing Harry's eyes to widen beyond their limits. "And you, you are a weak, powerless mortal. So no matter what you do, it will have no effect on a divine being like me."

Harry was shell-shocked by this revelation. 'Well, that explains the monstrous magical power of his.' He grimaced.

As a host of a certain particularly annoying parasite soul, he knew quite a lot about magic and things related to magic. And because of that very parasite, he also was aware of the hidden world of wizards that was filled with all sorts of mythical creatures. So because of it, he was quite sure that something like this didn't occur daily even in the wizarding world.

Heck, there was only one recorded history of a god meeting mortals, and details of that were sketchy at best.

"What have I done to grab the attention of a god?" he then somberly asked.

"Tsk… Don't flatter yourself mongrel. I don't want anything from a worthless being like you." Gilgamesh scoffed at him. "You are nothing but a simple stone I must step through to attain my goal."

Then he blurred in front of Harry in unprecedented speed, catching him off guard. "So just remain quiet and let the divinity unfold."

And that was when Harry's world exploded into soul crushing agony.

Originating from the lightning bolt scar on his forehead, it was so excruciatingly painful; it surpassed even the legendary Cruciatus curse. Every fiber, every muscle, and every bone in his body felt like they were crushed and rejoined in a most painful of ways, countless times a second.

He didn't even know if he was screaming hoarsely, or just opening his mouth in a silent scream. He felt like he was dying. Everything was filled in an incomprehensible haze of agony.

And then, above all this, he heard an ear splitting disembodied unearthly scream. Unknown to him, the scar on his forehead opened up by itself and from it, copious amount of black ichor began to leak out. And with it came, the scarcely believable more pain. He felt his soul literally fracturing.

And suddenly, abruptly, just like it had started, the hellish pain suddenly stopped. With a quiet thud, Harry fell down to the ground in a heap like an empty sac, his body abnormally spasming all over in phantom pain.

Is he going to die? Is this the end? Is this how he was going to kick the bucket? These dreadful thoughts began to swim inside his head.

'Like in bloody hell!' he screamed in his mind rebelliously. He was not going to go down like this. This was not the way had envisioned himself going out. Heck, he had not even thought of going out yet. Thus he should… no must do something against this, he thought vehemently.

After all, the idea of saying hello to his uncle and aunt in the other side of planar existence, after just sending them there did not seemed like a particularly lovable idea.

Fighting against the waves of extreme lethargy his body was swimming in, he tried to stand up – which was easier said than done. Placing his hands on his knee for support, he huffed in exhaustion. Closing his eyes, he clenched his teeth tightly to mask the cry of exertion that his throat was producing, and then, forced his body to stand up straight. And as he opened his eyes, he nearly went down on his knees again due to all the swirl of colors that bombarded his sight because of the exertion he had put upon himself.

*Clap* *Clap* *Clap*

He grimaced when he heard Gilgamesh clap. This was not good at all. Swiping away the blood that was dripping into his eye from his scar, he glared daggers at the golden King.

"I must say I am impressed by your tenacity. To remain standing after the crushing pain your very soul had just endured, you would have made a fine warrior." He heard the powerful being clad in golden armor say in an appraising tone. "It is rather unfortunate that I must kill you to attain my goal."

Rage filled inside Harry when he heard these words. God or not, there was no way in hell that he would just let someone kill him this easily. He had not planned to lie inside coffin this soon… and in case he does go out, he was not going to go out this pitifully. Thus, he was now determined not to kneel down in defeat and ask for his head to be cut off just because the person in front of him was a god.

Flooding his body with magic, he tried to ignore the pain and conjured a crude blade steel. Direct magic attacks were having no effect on him, so maybe it will do the trick, he thought.

"Hoh… The fire still burns bright inside you." Gilgamesh commented. "And why not it will? With your soul finally free from that serpent affliction, it will surely burn with more intensity. But sadly for you, it is still a hopeless act. And I will show you why."

And before Harry, an extraordinarily mind-blowing event took place. Suddenly, the empty air behind Gilgamesh glowed bright golden and hundreds of ripples began to form in the very fabric of reality. From the epicenters of all these ripples – blades, spears, axes, halberds, lance, daggers, and may other type of blades began to emerge.

Harry's jaws tightened as he looked at the supernatural spectacle in front of him in amazement, and fear. But then, this fueled his resolve to live even more. His grip on his generic sword tightened. After all, he was not going to submit just because of this.

'All my hope rests on this.' He thought for the last time and disappeared with a crack sound.

Then everything after that happened so fast, it was nothing but a mere blur. A loud crack sound; a flash of steel; the sound steel piercing flesh; and then, a thud sound of a body crashing against the ground. An eerie silence descended upon them.

"So…*cough* this is the difference of power between a god and mortal huh… *cough* *cough* Tch… it's fucking unfair…*cough*" Harry spat out blood from his mouth as he sprawled out on the ground with his back resembling a pincushion for blades.

Harry had tried to apparate in front of Gilgamesh to stab him with his conjured sword, but somehow, the moment he had reappeared, he had felt sharp stinging pain flaring on multiple point on his back, and after that, he found himself tasting dirt and blood.

Across him, Gilgamesh clicked his tongue. "Now, now… that was a foolish act in your part. I already said it is hopeless to go against a god, but you wouldn't listen... *sigh* I should just finish this." Saying that, he brought his hand down, commanding the blades hanging ominously in the air beside him to descend upon the downed young wizard.

Time slowed down for Harry as the image of hundreds of blades falling like a deathly rain was reflected on his emerald green eyes. For some stupid reason, for the first time in his short life, his eyes chose this moment to show the world in perfect clarity.

'Whoever said you see your life flashing when about to die is foolish.' He thought. As the imminent death of his inched closer to him, all he felt was complete numbness; a sense of detachment from this world.

'Death,' he snorted. Oh how meaningless it all looked to him. To gain all this power, just to lose it all to a damned god. What was the point of his life?

'…neither can live while the other survives…'

*clang**clang**clang**clang**clang**clang**clang**clang**clang* the ear splitting sound of steel clashing against steel pierced through the silence of the night.

Gilgamesh's eyes widened abruptly. His piercing wine colored eyes looked at the destruction his weapons had caused with high scrutiny. He knew something unnatural had happened in front of him just now. The surge of divine power that rushed towards him, it was unmistakable. Only one being in the whole universe could possess such rotten yet indomitable aura.

'Looks like it's time for me to finally conquer you, Death!' he thought in absolute determination.

Millennia ago, when he used to be the King of Babylon, he had conquered everything. No one was spared. Gods, demons, men, creatures, no matter whom, all fell by his might. As a sign of his victory, he took the most valued possession from the fallen, eventually amassing himself a treasury of near infinite wealth.

This ruthless demonstration of power, it all continued like this for years. And in the end, only one was left to conquer – The Death.

But unfortunately, he underestimated Death. Death was crafty bastard. Somehow, Death managed to poison his mind by the notion that he should die too, like everyone else.

Oh how foolish he was, to think that power was all it will take to defeat death.

However, in all this time, he was granted immense amount of time to think about. He had realized his folly and found out where he had gone wrong. Now he was even more determined to defeat Death once and for all. All he had to do was waiting till this young wizard dies.

Why?

He didn't know of the exact cause, but for some reason, this boy – Harry potter, he had a sliver of Death's power singed deep into his soul, that probably made him impervious to any kind of unlucky death. Because of this, even in the biggest of odds, the boy would have probably escaped unharmed.

Anyway, leaving that aside, the power of Death was dormant inside him. He believed that by awakening it, he will grab Death's attention. So to awaken it, he had to inflict extreme trauma to his soul, which was very easy because of that strange serpent parasite soul he found on his forehead. And looking at the sight in front of him, it looked like it had finally awakened.

When the dust finally settled down, the first thing that he noticed was ash-white wings of bone that looked like skeletal hands with seven fingers each spread above a ash haired boy like a shield. A tattered black robe was draped upon his small ashen body, from which, inky purple miasma resembling poison was emanating.

Gilgamesh triumphantly grinned. "Now, the demise of yours would surely attract Death's attention for me *Ack*" But his grand monologue was cut short when he felt a burning agony flare in the center of the chest.

"..w-what…?" he spat blood and looked down to see a hand of ash white complexion going through his chest.

'…fast…' he thought in astonishment. Looking up, he locked his eyes with the pulsing emerald green eyes. They were screaming for his death.

"…Arggghhh!" he screamed out loud in pain when the bony wings of the young boy converged by his side and then come together in a clasping motion to pierce him from both side . Now his body was not even on the ground. He was dangling by the extra bony appendages of the possessed boy.

"H-How…?" the golden king rasped out. "How is this possible?" he asked again. To think that a mere sliver of power can grant a mortal such a power; it seems, he had again underestimated the all-encompassing power of Death.

That was when he felt something brushing uncomfortably against his thundering heart. It was the young wizard's hand.

Color drained from his face as he realized what was about to happen. 'No, no, no, no… he wouldn't dare… not after how close I am… no, no, no…'

But no amount of denial could stop him from screaming out unholy pain when his heart was mercilessly crushed by Harry. His unearthly scream pierced through the eternal darkness of the night. And that was before his body was ripped apart in two in utterly gory manner by the last scion of Potters.

As for our hero, with the danger seemingly averted, the purple aura receded back and his body returned into its natural state. And after that, he fell down to the ground in a boneless heap.

***Scene Break***

**Unknown Location**

In a vast stretch of foggy whiteness, which stretched to forever and beyond, a petite, violet haired girl was seen standing with a rather cute looking expression in her face. You see, this girl was not exactly a girl in truth. In fact, unlike her tiny height and demure physique may suggest she was an incredibly powerful Demigoddess, Pandora. She was the legendary All Knowing Goddess, and wife of the Titan Epimetheus.

In a distant past, she, in collaboration with her husband, had introduced a powerful ritual that cursed – or blessed, it's the matter of perspective – an individual with the responsibility of bearing the divine powers of any god he or she had slayed, at the expense of his or her life; resulting in birth of a venerable supernatural being known as God Slayer, or Campione in general.

These Campiones, revered as children of hers were literal force of nature. Because of this ritual, from a mere mortal with absurd amount of luck and skill, they would become warriors of such powers that even gods would think twice before engaging in a battle against them; after all the name God Slayer was not just for decoration, they really held the power to slay a god with the 'acquired' divine Authorities – which was a set of skillset attributed to a god.

And to put the cherry on top; they could add even more varieties of Authorities to their repertoire of ever increasing quirks unlike normal gods by the act of slaying more gods and stealing it from them as a victory trophy: A Devil King indeed.

And now, after many years, it was time for them to again welcome another one of their brethren in their ranks. Because the Seventh Campione, Harry James Potter was about to grace the world with his might.

Xxx

"Ugh, what the hell hit me?" Harry tiredly groaned as he groggily opened his emerald green eyes. Rubbing his temple in an attempt to soothe the ghost of a lingering headache, he blinked for few times while his vision adjusted to the sudden influx of bright sunlight into his eyes, stinging mildly while it did so.

"Shrouded in darkness, born of a fool and witch…"

"What…" Harry eloquently asked when he heard a melodious voice speaking. Opening his eyes properly, he looked up from his lying position to see the figure of a very beautiful woman with violet – was that even natural – lock of hairs above him. Concentrating at her face, a lightning like jolt struck him when he saw her eyes. Those beautiful, clear green orbs were so similar to his; it felt like he was watching at his own reflection in a mirror.

"… A secret ritual of usurpation, only possible through the act of sacrificing a god… In short, all conditions have been met… Truly, a gift from heavens…"

"What are you talking about?" Harry again asked; confusion laced in every word of his question.

"To put it simply, the sacrificing of your life in order to slay Gilgamesh, has succeeded." The woman above him smiled.

"What, I killed who? ... And who are you?"

"The All Knowing True Goddess, Pandora. And now, because of the black art I and Epimetheus created, you will be reborn as our illegitimate child; a Campione; a Devil King; a God Slayer."

And just as she finished: before he can speak anything, Harry felt the infinite foggy, white world rapidly fading away; taking along with it, the memories of his confrontation with Pandora.

**A/n: So, I changed many things around. Hope you are fine with this. Another thing I have decided to do is just focus on Potter and Campione verse, instead of introducing elements from different verses. It made the story downright confusing for some.**

**And yeah, I know that I suck at writing a seamlessly flowing plot, so apologies for this.**

***Authority **

**Gate of Babylon: King's Treasure**

**Description: **A dark red, key-shaped short sword that connects to the Golden Capital, the treasury of Gilgamesh, allowing the user to easily access its contents. It connects the space of reality to the vault, opening an invisible door that allows the contents to pass through upon the user's command. The items that pass through the gate form ripples in the empty air as they appear. They can be summoned anywhere, either in the user hands or anywhere in the near vicinity. The power of the Gate of Babylon increases as the knowledge and wealth of the owner increases. And since it can create portals, it also grants a passage for Harry to travel to any part of the world instantly.

**Aria for activation: **None

**Conditions for use: **None. (The authority remains passively activated at all times, negating the need to chant an aria to activate it. But because of this, it constantly draws a small amount of magical energy from Harry in a constant rate. The magic consumption increases slightly if anything from the vault is summoned outside)


	2. Epiphany

**A/N: Hey everyone! I'll like to explain this before you read this chapter. Harry is NOT some invincible being just because he has the Gate of Babylon. Now, without wasting any more time, I present you the 2****nd**** chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

**Chapter 2 – Epiphany**

_*__Thump* *thump* *Thump*_

_The shiny mahogany door nearly broke off its hinges as a big plump hand crashed against it in a furious urgency._

"_Darn it!" Vernon swore. "Open this goddamn door Petunia!" and banged his large hand once again, not caring about the false image of well-mannered normal people they had cultivated over years. He was too furious too care about such trivial things right then._

"_Vernon please," Petunia pleaded shakily, opening the door as quick as she can. "Don't create a ruckus out there. What will the neighbors say?" The ever worry wart Petunia stretched her neck side to side, apprehensively looking for anyone from her neighbor who might have witnessed the anger of her husband. _

"_They can fuck themselves." Vernon snarled, his eyes smoldering. "Now tell me, where is that freak?" He demanded with angry visage._

_Petunia flinched at the language her husband was using. But she dare not admonish him for that. It was clear that he was angered beyond measure, and she would rather not have his rage directed at her._

"_I am not a freak!" a livid voice rang around the room before Petunia could say anything, the source of voice being none other than the 5 years old, Harry James Potter._

"_Ah… there you are, freak," Vernon said with maniacal glee reflecting on his face as he looked at his freak of a nephew emerging from the kitchen. "Now come here freak, tell me, how you got more marks then my sweet Dudders? You cheated right? Of course you cheated. Now come here and take your punishment for cheating." He beckoned Harry to come near him._

_Harry gave a look of incredulousness at his whale of an uncle. "Have you gone bonkers you stupid walrus?! Get away from me!" he yelled._

"_Now, now… this will not do." Vernon seemed to shake his head ruefully. "This will certainly not do. To live in my house, and to order me around, you have grown gutsy freak. So, let me remedy this." And he lunged at Harry._

_But Harry was ready. With reflexes that his small stature provided in spades, he moved away from the trajectory of incoming human whale, causing Vernon to crash head first into the ground, breaking his nose in the process. Meanwhile, Harry looked at his uncle with his mouth gaping in shock. 'How stupid can he be?' he thought sardonically._

_On the floor, Vernon groaned and began to get up, clutching his bleeding nose while he did so. Hefting himself up, he glared daggers at the boy who he believed was the cause of his misery._

"_Oh Vernon, please don't do this. Don't hit him please. It is not necessary." Petunia once again pleaded, concerned not for her nephew, but for her husband. "If the people of those child welfare organizations hear about this, they will surely put you in jail."_

"_Oh shut up Pet!" Vernon retorted angrily. "How will they know about this if the only one who will tell them is unable to do so?" he questioned her rhetorically. Then spitting the blood that had welled up into his mouth, he moved his gaze once again towards the freak … and promptly froze. The air suddenly grew deathly still._

"_Ah, meet my new friend, dear uncle," Harry softly, yet mockingly said, lifting his right hand up in which a rather deadly looking snake was cozily wrapped around. He ignored the shrieking of his aunt in the background while he hissed something incorrigible to the snake in parseltoungue, after which, the snake fixed its gaze on Vernon, slipping out its forked tongue periodically that freaked out the Dursley patriarch even more. _

"_I just told it to strike you down at slightest of hostile moment, my loving uncle." Harry warned playfully. "And let me remind you, its reflexes are many times greater than that of yours. So I don't think I have to worry about you trying anything funny, do I?" Harry enquired in fake cautious voice. _

_The only answer he got from Vernon was the clenching and unclenching of his jaws._

"_Thought so," the green eyed wizard smirked._

…

Emerald green eyes, shining vibrantly with life opened slowly as the memory of the dream began to fade rapidly. Moments later, the only thing Harry could remember was few fleeting images of the moments from yesteryears, when he had just begun tap into his vast potential.

Letting go of the superfluous dream he had just had, Harry let his gaze meander outside the window pane disinterestedly as the magical bus, better known as Knight Bus in the wizarding world, rampaged past Big Ben, stampeding its way through legions of non-magical vehicles in frightening speed. And suddenly, stopped altogether, sending the majority of magical folks riding on it sprawling down the floor in boneless heap.

"Merlin's beard, my foot!"

Harry chose to ignore the harrowing cries of the poor fellow who had fallen rather badly in the favor of composing himself from the near fall he had just saved himself from. Getting comfortable once again in the bus seat, he watched from his peripheral vision as a young witch of comparable age to him climbed into the bus, her platinum blonde locks flowing freely behind her. The bus lurched violently once the girl was situated and once again began to bullhorn its way through the streets, once again leaving him alone with his thoughts.

A week had passed since his world had turned upside-down. For better or worse, he could not say for sure. But he was leaning heavily towards the former. Why? The answer was simple. When you suddenly gain the power so great that you transcend the very mortality and break free from the heavy chains of fate and destiny, you ought to think so.

The powers he had gained from his rebirth as a God Slayer was astounding, incredible even. He now possessed the divine might of the god he had slayed, gained as a victory trophy for doing the undoable. And because of this, he now walked the supreme path of divinity, the matters of mortals concerning him the least.

It was not a hidden fact that even before his rebirth, he was already a prodigious mage in making. On the tender age of 10, he had already attained heights so great, only few wizards from the long and ancient history of wizardry could claim to have stepped on. And unlike them, who had attained those heights after lifelong devotion to the particular field of magic they practiced, he did it before he could enter another decade of his life.

The nature of this tremendous and previously unheard of unfathomable growth rate was not known. Maybe it was the effect of long hold interest Fate had on him which border lined on obsession, or maybe it was the interference of Death himself in his infancy, or maybe, he was just that powerful, so that he can be marked by the higher beings to shoulder a destiny so great, it would have crushed other mortals.

But whatever the reason was, when this incredible magical prowess was mixed with indomitable might of a god in supernatural harmony, his powers grew leaps and bounds. No, not leaps and bounds, these terms could not describe the state of his prowess without severely underestimating the scale of his growth. Because you see, as a Campione, as a God Slayer, he had become so powerful, no mortal could touch him, no matter how powerful or skilled that mortal might be. The triumph of the absolute might of the magic of gods over the magic of mortals was so great, it was not even laughable. And because of this, only a god, or those mortals blessed by magic of gods, would dare harm him.

Another sudden violent jerk notified him of that Knight Bus had stopped again. Harry watched as an old witch hurriedly stepped out of the bus, probably in an attempt to get away from the ride of hell as fast as she can. Seeing this, Harry felt the corner of his lips tug up in amusement. Looking out, he saw the bus had left the heavily populated city are and had entered into more desolate part of the country, a sign that wizarding community was nearby. And as the bus sped off once again, Harry was once again left idle to his thoughts.

Harry was still unsure as to how he had slayed Gilgamesh. After getting skewered by the rain of swords, the only thing he remembered was a sharp pain shooting all over his body, and then, nothing but endless haze of purple. After that, he had woken up on the exact spot he fallen the night before with vague recollection of meeting with Pandora, the All Giving Goddess. All that he remembered from their meeting was her declaration that he was now a God Slayer.

The changes he had gone through after becoming a God Slayer was immediate to notice when he had regained his consciousness. Placing aside the now established fact that he was now more powerful than ever because of the monstrous magical boost he had received, the physical aspects of his body had also gone through various subtle but nice changes. The most noticeable being his corrected eyesight.

Having suffered from poor eyesight from the moment he had opened his eyes in this world, the correction of his sight was a hugely welcomed change. It was not just corrected; it had gone beyond and made his eyesight even better than that of average human. He could see things now, to which he was blind previously. In other words, his sense of vision was superior to every humans living on the planet.

Not just his sense of vision, his other sense as well received their respective boosts. He will admit it was shockingly disorienting at first. Because of all his senses working at heightened sensitivity, he was bombarded with all kind information at once, causing him nearly keel over in sensory overload. The sight, the sound, the taste, the feel, the smell – it all nearly fainted him. But fortunately for him, he soon got used to it and now, he had never been better.

Other than that, his physique had also got excellent in health. Before, his body was passable, somewhat frail even from the lack of nutrition. But after his rebirth, his body was in its prime shape. By no means was he sporting rock hard muscles and six-pack abs, capable of hurling giant stones miles away, for he was only 10 years old for god's sake. But his body was as good as it could be for a boy of that age. Even the cursed scar from his forehead had vanished, along with all other minor scars along his entire body, leaving nothing but smooth, pale skin.

Then there was the Authority he had stripped off Gilgamesh, The Gate of Babylon. In short, it was the most powerful, magnificent and incredible thing Harry had ever seen or heard of. And to be honest, he would have never even dreamed about something like that in his lifetime. So, for him to acquire ability like this by a stroke of luck, Fate must have been smiling rather widely at him lately.

The Gate of Babylon was a sort of key to a pocket dimension, which housed the near infinite treasures of the Great Gilgamesh. Collected over his incredible lifetime, besides the usual riches, the treasure housed uncountable objects of miracles. Everything inside the vault held something of great value, for they were personally handpicked by Gilgamesh himself. From a small book to world destroying weapons, it contained everything which he and only he can access. Suffice to say, he felt spoilt.

"Next stop Leaky Cauldron!" the announcement came shortly before the Knight Bus once again stopped in its usual way, causing many passengers to go down the floor.

"You know what kid? You look familiar to me. What did you say your name was?" The bus conductor, Stan Shunpike asked Harry when he was about the exit the bus.

"Oh, it's Harry," Harry replied as he exited the bus. Rummaging around his pocket, he fished out a small gold coin that he had discretely summoned from the vault, and showed it to the conductor. "Look I forgot to bring money, so will this suffice?" he asked. Since he had no wizarding currency with him, he thought a bit of gold from the vast treasury of Gate of Babylon will do.

Snatching the precious metal from his hand, the conductor eyed the coin with scrutiny and then eyed Harry in suspicion. Then shrugging his shoulders, he gave a toothy smile and smirked, "Harry huh? Well, I hope you ride our bus again." And then he, along with the bus, was gone in a bang. Waving away the dust kicked up the speeding away bus; Harry turned on his heels and looked at the old, rundown pub across the road.

Going inside, he found out that the pub was not as rundown as it looked from the outside. From inside, it was still old and seedy looking, but the atmosphere was lively and maybe a bit rambunctious he would say. Making sure of not crashing with other witches and wizards as it was a little overcrowded in there, he made his way to the lone bartender of the pub.

"Hello there, I'm Tom. And who might you be?" The aforementioned bartender asked with a genial smile. Tom was a bald stocky man of pale complexion.

"I'm Harry," Harry was quick to reply.

"And what can I do for you, young man?"

"Err… can you show me the way to… err… Diagonally?"

"Ah, you must mean Diagon Alley. Of course I can show you. Come, follow me." With this said, he guided Harry to the back of pub where there was a solid expansion of brick wall. Brandishing his wand, he quickly tapped on few spots of the brick wall with practiced ease, which resulted in an archway to form.

Harry arched his eyebrows when he saw this. 'Remarkable,' he thought. "Thanks for the help, Tom," he offered his gratitude as walked towards the entrance of the magical alley.

"Oh, think none of it." The bald man waved him off. "By the way…" he was about to ask raven haired boy something but then he realized he had already disappeared in the crowd. "The kid must be in hurry." He chuckled lightly and went back to work.

As for Harry, after getting away from the bartender, he began to just move around sightseeing. He for once, wanted to see the world his parents hailed from. He wanted to know how different the real world of magic was in comparison to the muggle world.

While it was true that 'Tom the parasite', used to show him places of magic he had been to from his memories, but most of those were shown not with the purpose to wow him, but to show how he, the great Dark Lord was doing in his conquests. As a lover of gloating, he used to show him each and every memory that showed him as the victor, as the one who defeated his opponent with ease. And so, the pseudo-education of Harry in the little know-hows of the magical world had begun.

Putting the memories of the parasite aside, he was finding it increasingly difficult to roll his eyes in disdain. From what he had seen till now, he would not say he was smitten by how the Diagon Alley looked. Now he understood where the Leaky Cauldron decor was inspired from. This was twentieth century wasn't it? Then why did everything looked so old age? He found himself questioning rhetorically.

Shaking his head in disdain, he once again focused on the alley he was standing on. Witches and wizards of all ages were milling around, hustling and bustling through the somewhat cramped stony pavements of this medieval world. And did he mention the very old-fashioned black robes and pointy hats they were wearing. (He directs an incredulous look at that.) It made him stick out like a sore thumb with his simple jeans and grey t-shirt. Other than that, various kinds of shops, ranging from fairly normal to strange to downright bonkers could be seen. Some caught particular interest of Harry, like wand shop, bookstore, etc. while some were so weird it made him swear he will not even put one-step inside them, ever.

Moving along, he finally found a building that looked relatively close to this age. 'So this is Gringotts.' He thought as he took in the sight of impressively built white building of Gringotts, the wizarding bank. He had no wizarding currency on him, so he had decided exchanging the pounds he had on him will be the first other of business. Only after that, he could explore the nuances of the magical world properly, because even in this community, money mattered.

So without wasting any more time, he went inside. Inside, looking around the opulent main hall that had greeted him as he entered the wizarding bank, he whistled. He had to admit, the goblins knew what they were doing when they had built this place up. Simply put, it was magnificent. Seeing all this, he was wondered in amusement as to what a place as this was doing in the sea of really non-remarkable things.

And the magical creatures that all ran this, they were a sight to behold, at least for him that is. Like everything, Harry was finding out that seeing something in a memory of a deranged man could not hold a candle to seeing that very thing in real. So, to finally see the cunning and ruthless bankers that were the goblins sitting on rows upon rows of seats alongside the main chamber, silently and dutifully doing their work, a sense of novelty washed through him. For it was the first time he had seen a real magical creature with his own eyes.

"I want to exchange some Pounds for… uh …Gallons." He stated to the nearest goblin, stumbling slightly over the name of wizarding currency. As he had never been to a magical community before, getting used to verbalize all the strange specific terms was proving to be a challenging task.

The goblin scowled at Harry, its black beady eyes reflecting annoyance at being disturbed from whatever it was doing. "How much?" it asked irately.

Raising an eyebrow at the rudeness, Harry silently handed it some pounds. The goblin exchanged it quickly and handed over several gold coins in a sack. As for Harry, he quickly pocketed it and hurried out of the bank, not in the mood to create a scene before the naked eyes of public by doing something to the infuriating goblin, because right now, discretion was his best friend.

Few days ago, when he was still getting familiar with his new powers, he had stumbled upon the sudden realization of how painfully unaware he was, of everything that truly mattered. Up until his rebirth, the only thing that drove him was the matter of Dursleys. A rather pointless, redundant and worthless purpose he had speculated.

Becoming a Campione had opened his mind in so many different ways, it amazed him. Before, because of the estranged childhood he had to endure, no matter how intelligent and powerful he was, there was a need, a childish need inside his rebellious mind to make everyone pay for what he had suffered. He wanted to make everyone responsible to bleed for the childhood wrested away from him. He wanted to make them feel pain.

And Tom was most supportive. He applauded him for thinking it. He fanned the ember, and stoked the fire that grew out of it. Tom was most understanding when Harry contemplated on thoughts of revenge, even taking the trouble of guiding Harry in some cases.

At first, Harry was wary of this disembodied voice that rang inside his mind. For a certain amount of time, he was in refusal to accept the fact that his body housed more than one consciousness. But soon, the helping hand Tom provided won him over. He began to trust him. And appeased by this, Tom showed him his memories. To show him, give him a false hope of how great he can be.

And so, things were going quite well for Harry, and even better for Tom. But then again, it was a long accepted universal truth that everything good comes to an end. As time flew by, Harry not only grew in power, he also grew in mind. He became knowledgeable; he became smart; smart enough to realize Tom was not what he seemed to be.

And then, he began to deceive the deceiver himself. He didn't alienate the parasite, while at the same time; he didn't let him come anymore close. Tom was infuriated by this he knew. His quest of taking over the soul of young Potter by making the young boy submit to him completely had abruptly come to halt. And being what he was, just a torn piece of the whole soul, he did not possess enough will power to submit Harry forcefully. Thus, with all the roads blocked, Tom decided to wait patiently, for the soul of Dark Lord had it in spades.

But then rather unfortunately for the Dark Lord's piece of soul, a certain King of Heroes came out of nowhere and inadvertently decided to interfere and ripped him off Harry, thus, ending the pathetic existence of the piece of soul that Harry had named, Tom the parasite.

Harry could not tell whether it was the result of his soul being finally free from Tom's influence or he becoming a Campione, his mind felt clearer and freer than ever. For the first time, he realized how simplistic thoughts he used to hold, making him predictable and inefficient. He was flawed.

While there was no doubt that with prodigious magic he had, he would have bull horned his way through almost everything in his path, like in the case of Dursleys. But where will that vengeful path full of rage and nothing else lead him to? What will happen once he had unnecessarily destroyed everything in front of him? He shuddered when he thought about it. He now realized there was only one fate waiting for them in the end – a bitter life full of regrets.

He knew that things like this could not continue. Now that he was a God Slayer, he must be more cautious, more thoughtful about his steps. He could not just burn everything down in a fit of rage from now on or the consequences could be more than he could handle, because he was very much aware that with power as great as his, he would soon gain interest of wrong kind of lots. Something he was not ready for right now.

Thus, with these things weighing heavy on his mind, he had begun to explore, to gather information. Like previously mentioned, he was blissfully unaware of the things and the forces that might come into play. Therefore he wanted, no needed to rectify this. After all, information was power. With no information on his side, even with all the power he had, he was as good as fully loaded jet with no pilot.

So keeping these things in mind, he had embarked on the journey of self-discovery. And he knew just the perfect way to start this off.

Disappearing in a burst of golden particles, an ability similar to the art of teleportation that his Authority granted him, he reappeared behind the person who have had been following him for past several days, silent as a shadow.

"Looking for someone?" feeling no ill-intent, he decided to humor her, causing the blonde girl to shriek in fright. Harry chuckled as he looked at the harmless looking girl staring at him with shock, and a hint of fear evident in her forest green eyes.

"H-How did you…"

"Find you?" Harry interjected. The girl nodded. "I can feel your pulse of magic from past few days. First I thought nothing of it, but when you began to follow me everywhere, I decided to confront you." He explained. "So tell me, why are you following me? And better answer truthfully, because I have this bad habit of getting pissed off too soon." He grinned.

Freaked out a little by his statement, the girl nodded earnestly. "I am following you to determine the cause of my summoning in this plane of existence, my lord."

While the statement didn't make much sense to Harry in anyway, he took notice of the title she had addressed him with in last. It could mean only one thing. She knew. She knew about his godhood, like he had suspected.

Few days ago, he had sensed a peculiar piece of magic in the periphery of his supernatural senses. At first, he had thought of it as belonging to some wayward wizard passing by. But when a day passed, and he could still feel it following him, he had decided to investigate. He found out that the magic following him was strong, very strong truth to be told. Not even close to his but far strong than any average wizard.

Other than that, he was most curious by the way it held traces of divine magic in it, not its own but of someone else, someone like him. And that piqued his interest. Not able to contain his curiosity much longer, he had decided to confront it directly but suddenly, he had felt it disappear, gone off completely from the reach of his senses. He believed he had scared it away. So when it was back again, he had decided to let it flirt around him, let the holder of this magic fall into false sense of security. Until now that is.

"You are not a normal witch are you?" he asked her, eyeing her skeptically. "The fact that you know about my status proves it. So, I ask you again, why are you following me? And speak English this time."

The girl looked conflicted. "I know you must be confused by my statement. And I … I could explain it all far better in another way, b-but…" her face flushed here, "… it is a bit unorthodox method, for which I must have your permission."

Looking at the bashful girl blushing up a storm, Harry raised one eyebrow up. What could be the reason for her sudden shy behavior, he wondered. Then she had said that she can explain it better with this way of hers, so giving her the benefit of doubt, he assented. "Alright, you have my permission. But make it quick." He ordered, his patience wearing thin.

Nodding, the girl scooted timidly over to Harry with extremely shy expression on her face. Glancing at Harry, her lips quivered as she gulped loudly. Then seemingly strengthening her resolve, she closed the gap between them, looking at him with steely gaze of determination.

Harry got alarmed by the sudden intrusion in his privacy. "Hey, what are you doin… *mmph*" He felt his mind froze in shock. His face flushed when he felt her soft lips locking with his. Confounded beyond measure, he haplessly fumbled against her, about to push her off. But before he could do that, he began to feel her magic trickle into him. And that was when his eyes promptly widened.

A sea of information began to crash into the shore of his mind, filling it with large amount of information. The girl, he suddenly knew her name. Alice Louise, the High Priestess of Witengamot was transferring every bit of information she had learnt over her life to him through the kiss.

His eyes glazed over as out of nowhere, he began to get aware of things and concepts like Heretic Gods, Divine Ancestors, Divine Beasts, and most importantly, Campiones. Things that should have taken years to learn were getting forcefully crammed into his head in a matter of seconds, because of this ritual Alice had evoked.

But this was not enough, he thought. She knew more, he had already realized. And he wanted to know them all. He wanted to suck her dry of information. Knowledge was power, and little knowledge was more dangerous than having none. So he was adamant in getting what he wanted.

Grabbing the back of her head, he mashed his lips more forcefully into her. Before, she was just giving the bare necessary, now Harry was forcing each and everything out of her. His magic pulsed with power and surrounded them in a cocoon, covering them in blanket of magic.

Alice moaned in ethereal pleasure when she felt his smothering magic wash over her. Delving far deeper then she had intended she felt herself melting into him, giving him what he desired. She felt her mind and soul getting willingly pilfered. Her entire life was laid bare open for Harry to see. And oddly, instead of feeling violated like she had assumed, she felt in tranquility.

And as sudden was the start, it all stopped abruptly. Slowly, Harry parted away his lips from the unconscious girl in his arms, looking at her fading figure with the deepest of gratitude. He owed her big time for this. Had she not been here for him today, he did not know how much time it would have taken to gather even the fraction of all this information.

The poor girl had expended almost all her magic, so her projected body was beginning to disappear. Because of the knowledge transfer, Harry was now aware that the girl before him was just a magical projection of real Alice. Since the real Alice's body was far too weak to move due to the massive strain her powerful magic put on her, she projected her image to move around, with the help of telekinesis to make everything feel real.

As the last semblance of Alice faded from his arms, a chuckle escaped his lips. Straightening up, he looked up to the heavens and began to laugh in earnest. This day had gone far better than he had hoped for. He would be honest; a seed of doubt had begun to fester in his mind that maybe becoming a God Slayer was not a good thing at all. He had feared that the godhood he had attained had wrested away the dream he had: To become the most powerful wizard in the world.

Thus, for past few days, he had walked aimlessly with no purpose. He had become this powerful so fast, touched the apex so early, he did not even enjoy it. He had this frighteningly vast power at his fingertips and nothing to use it upon. This was not something he wanted. This pointless life, with no meaning for him to exist, other than just… well existing, he did not want to partake in it. It was life akin to that of undead for him.

But now, he had a purpose, something to look forward for. Now that he knew there were beings much more powerful than him, he could once again embark upon the journey of becoming the strongest. And unlike last time, this time the adventure will be long he knew.

But he did not care, for the ultimate fruit will taste much sweeter if he worked for it. He would sweat, he would suffer, and he would bleed, but he would mark his name in the history as the strongest, he vowed.

**A/N: And cut! What do you think guys? Read &amp; review. PM me if you have any questions.**

**Note: The display of young Princess Alice was deliberate. I have changed her age and now she is around a decade younger than what she is in canon. **

**Till next time, Bye, bye!**


	3. Halcyon Days

**A/n: Hello everyone! Long time no see. **

**A quick warning to before you guys start reading. As a God Slayer, Harry is insanely powerful. He is supposed to above mere, pesky mortals after all.**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.**

**Chapter 3 – Halcyon Days**

"Absolutely not!"

"Your grace, I implore you to…

"Alice," Harry's voice was stern. "I don't need your assistance."

"B-but why?"

"Because as I already told you – I don't need your help," Harry told her irately.

"I don't think you are giving this a proper thought, your grace." Alice insisted. "Please, reconsider my offer and let me serve you. I give you my word, as the premier Hime-Miko; I will never let you down."

"Oh for god's sake – just drop this topic, will you?" Harry snapped as he rounded up to her. "And stop calling me 'your grace'. I have had enough of this name-calling. My name's Harry!"

"But it's a sign of respe-

"I don't care what it is! Just drop it!" Harry retorted. "And leave me alone!"

Alice's shoulders slumped as she lowered her head in defeat. "As you command, Harry," she softly said. Then without saying another word, her figure shimmered and faded away.

"Finally," Harry muttered as he shook his head in annoyance. "I thought she would never leave."

This was the fifth time in a span of two days, when she had tried to persuade him into accepting her as his accomplice. And this had begun to annoy him. Although he was quite grateful for what she had done for him, the idea of having someone by his side – he was unused to it. All his life, he had been somewhat of a lone wolf, and he was content with his way of life. Thus, he felt no reason to change it right then. And besides, there were other things which were preoccupying his mind at that moment; things which required his immediate attention.

"What can I do for you?" the characteristic nasally voice of a goblin greeted Harry from behind the counter.

Something had come up recently which had brought him to the wizard bank.

"I want to know how the bank deals with family accounts," Harry said.

"It depends. Different family, different procedure," the goblin explained. "So, name of the family?" he asked.

"Potter."

Immediately, the goblin eyed him with great deal of scrutiny when it heard the name. "Ripsnare!" he yelled. A moment later, another goblin, came strutting around and stood beside the desk. "_Mr_. _Potter _here wants to know about his family accounts."

The new arrival gave a pointed look to Harry. "Oh, does he?"

"I do," Harry said, nodding slightly. Noticing the strange they were giving him, he asked, "Is there any problem with that?"

"Not entirely," Ripsnare was quick to reply. "Unless you aren't who you say you are," he stared pointedly at Harry.

"Ah," a look of understanding dawned upon Harry's face. "I believe…" he fished out a piece of folded paper from his pocket and put it upon the desk, "… you are talking about this." Then when he unfolded the paper, it was revealed to be a copy of Daily Prophet, the leading newspaper of magical society. And on the first page, in big, bold letters were the words emblazoned – _HARRY POTTER, THE BOY-WHO-LIVED IS DEAD_.

Ripsnare gingerly picked up the newspaper. "As a matter of fact – indeed, we are." The goblin eyed Harry again. "It's strange" there was confusion in his voice, "that in spite of knowing about this, you would step in here, claiming to be _Harry Potter_."

Harry snorted, "If I were dead, I would be the first one to know about it, no?"

"Maybe," the goblin shrugged. "Come with me, _Mr. Potter_. Let's see who is telling the truth – the paper, or you."

After several tests which included the likes of blood test and other obscure magical rituals, Ripsnare was puzzled to core. "This is impossible," he whispered.

"What is?" Harry asked in genuine curiosity.

But instead of replying to his query, Ripsnare sneered at him. "I don't know how you did this, but it seems you have managed to hoodwink our proprietary lineage tests. But it doesn't matter. Guards!" the goblin shouted.

"Wait – What?! You are still saying I am not me?" Harry couldn't understand. He understood that the goblins had doubts, as to who he was because of the news that was circulating all around the wizarding world – the news of his death.

Everyone was shocked by the news. In fact, it would be an understatement to say that the world was just shocked. It was chaos out there. Magical communities from all direction were in uproar. Suffice to say, the news of his apparent _demise _had hit the magical communities hard.

As for him, when he had first read about it, he was utterly baffled by it. It's not every day that you see your name plastered on the front page of a famous newspaper claiming you have died. It was an unusual experience to say in least.

And that was when a piece of information surfaced to the forefront of his mind; information that he had extracted from Alice's mind.

When a man slays a god, he dies. He dies as a human to leave the fragile mortality of a man. And soon afterwards, he is reborn as a powerful God Slayer by the magic of goddess Pandora. But the point remains, that one has to die, before he could be rebirthed, however briefly it might be.

Now, the only thing that was puzzling him was – how in the bloody hell did other people find about his brief death. From what he knew, the only survivor from that night was him. And there were no witnesses either. 'So how?' he wondered.

"Do not try to lark in here, boy!" Ripsnare's angry shout brought Harry out of his reverie. "Of course you aren't Harry Potter. He is dead! We have already confirmed it."

"But, I am-

"An imposter!" the goblin glowered, annoyed by the foolish insistence of whom he truly believed was an imposter. He then motioned the goblin guards that had just arrived there to take Harry away.

There were three goblins, garbed in some sort of gold plated armor fashioned after knight's armor. Each of them was wielding a barbed spear in their hand. And in a perfectly synchronized movement, they were closing in on Harry fast.

Harry shook his head in exasperation when he caught sight of them. He knew all too well, where this particular road led to. "Oh well, I tried my best to be reasonable," he muttered as he cracked his fingers. Then, in a single horizontal waving motion of his right hand, he released an area wide banishing spell.

A moment later, with three loud crunches, the three goblin guards were reduced to bloody pulps as their bodies crashed to the opposite wall.

Harry's eyebrows shot upwards in surprise. He had only meant to throw them back. 'Damn! I really need to watch how much magic I put into my spells these days,' he thought to himself.

Anyway, putting that thought aside for the moment, Harry swiftly grabbed Ripsnare by his neck and lifted him up above the ground. "Now, how do I convince you that I'm not dead?"

The strangled goblin could only gasp for breath in response.

"You know, we didn't have to do this," Harry patronized.

Ripsnare scowled at him. "You think you are the first one to act against us?" he growled. "We of the Gringotts are always prepared for things like this," saying that, the goblin launched a hidden dagger at Harry, aiming for his heart.

Harry, caught off guard by the sudden and unexpected close attack, was barely able to move and was hit by the dagger. The goblin made blade, which was far superior in quality to any blade crafted by human and was also known for being able to easily cut even the toughest of basilisk hide, easily pierced him.

Although, fortunately for him, because of the precarious situation that Ripsnare was in, he couldn't target well so the dagger had instead buried itself on his left shoulder.

Harry yelped in pain as burning sensation spread though his shoulder. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Ripsnare flung himself out of Harry's grasp and ran away.

It didn't take him long to be back though. But then, he had brought reinforcement with him. Around 2 dozen goblins were flanking him, as he strode towards Harry. "Take him!" Ripsnare snarled, commanding the goblin knights to apprehend the fiend that had dared to strangle him and kill 3 goblins.

However, before they could do that, a sudden wave of suffocating dread washed over them. An unexplainable pressure began to settle upon them. At first, it was similar being covered by a blanket. Then in front of them, they saw golden ripples appear behind the boy. From those ripples, came the blades – numerous blades, each holding power to decimate an entire building.

And, the pressure spiked.

Ripsnare, along with entire goblin knights that had come with him found themselves crashing down to their knees. There was profound terror in their eyes.

There was rapid series of flash as the powerful blades shot forward, towards them. And just like that, Ripsnare found all the goblin knights beside him keel over; all of them dead.

Taking his attention away from his dead kin, he watched in abject horror as the wound on Harry's shoulder began to heal after he had pulled out the dagger. He scrambled backwards, his eyes moving rapidly in its sockets, trying to see a way out of there. 'Who is he? _What_ is he?'

Staring down at the terrified little goblin, Harry scoffed. Twirling the same dagger that he was attacked with, he put it under Ripsnare's chin and spoke, "I ask this again, goblin. How do I convince you that I'm not dead?"

…..

**Few Minutes Later**

"Umm… Mr. Potter," Ripsnare cautiously started, "You must see it from my… I mean our perspective. You see, for this entire week, before the news of your death was released to the general public; it was already circulating amongst select few peoples, people in high places. The Ministry of Magic had people sent everywhere to search you. Even after finding your aunt's house burned down to the ground, they were not willing to believe that you've died. After all, you were hailed as the Chosen One."

Harry tried to keep a straight face when his aunt's house was mentioned. It was him after all who had set fire to it. "What do you mean by Chosen One?" he asked.

"Although much of it is shrouded in mystery, it is believed that you are destined to defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"But isn't he dead already? I mean, there are books written about it. The Boy-Who-Lived and all that stuff."

"Were you dead?" Ripsnare looked at Harry pointedly. "Despite what everyone claims, despite what _we _claimed, you are still here."

"Ah, fair point." Harry nodded in understanding. "But still, how is he alive?"

"That is not something we can answer. Simply because we don't know how he is alive. We just know that he is alive."

"About that, how were you so certain to claim that I was dead?"

"Oh, that's just a simple matter of cross-referencing with the Family Tree."

"Family tree?" Harry asked in puzzlement.

"It's a complex system of magic, which in short, is designed to show all members of a particular house. Each and every branch of Gringotts has them. And for a nominal fee, we can also fit them in your house."

"And this family is so reliable that you were willing to overlook the blood tests?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Yes," Ripsnare said in serious tone. "The Family Tree was designed to be irrefutable by our forefathers. Never has there been a case where it gave false information – you being the exception." He eyed Harry pointedly, "it seems you have quite the habit of doing impossible, Mr. Potter."

Harry shrugged at that. "So, is that how you are sure that Voldemort is also alive and kicking?" he asked.

"Indeed."

'This is certainly interesting.' Harry thought. It would seem he was not the only one who can defy death. However, filing away that piece of information in his mind to contemplate upon it later, he turned his attention back to Ripsnare. "Anyway, now that it has been established that I am indeed _not_ _dead, _let's talk about the reason why had come here.

"You see, in today's newspaper, when I was reading about my apparent _death, _it seems to hint that I have a substantial amount of wealth – wealth which if the paper is to be believed, will soon be acquired by this Ministry of Magic. Is this true?"

Ripsnare nodded. "Yes, that is the standard protocol. If there is no one to inherit the family fortune, it goes to Ministry. In fact, if I remember correctly, it has already been done."

Harry's eyes flashed. "What do you mean it has already been done?" he asked with an edge in his voice.

Ripsnare shuffled nervously on his feet. He licked his lips, trying to figure out the right words to say. "Ah, nothing but simple misunderstanding, Mr. Potter, I assure you – nothing for you to be concerned about. We'll deal with it shortly."

"Be that as it may, I don't want others to get their hands on the only thing left for me by my parents. So make sure you deal with it as soon as possible."

"Yes. Of course, Mr. Potter," Ripsnare tried to placate him. "Now, is there anything that we can do for you, Mr. Potter?"

"Ah, in fact there is," Harry had a look of contemplation on his face. "I've heard rumors about a dragon in Gringotts. What are the chances of me seeing it?"

…..

**Department of Mysteries, London**

Broderick Bode was a middle aged wizard revered by those who knew him for his wits and intellect. Born as the youngest of 3 brothers, his childhood was spent trying to grow out of the huge shadows of his elder brothers, who were quite successful in their life. Because of that fact, the drive to prove his worth was so strong in him, later on, he too managed to become a person of his own. 

A fairly powerful wizard by today's standards, way above from the average herds; he was called by the ultra-secretive group of elite wizards, the Unspeakables. Feeling honored, he swiftly joined their ranks and after several of service, he became one of their most distinguished members. Him, along with his partner Saul Croaker, spearheaded many researches to unravel mysteries of magic and had achieved quite many things. In short, he was a celebrated person known for his sharp mind, and was respected by all.

And yet, looking at the piece of parchment that he was holding in his hands, he could not help but be baffled.

"How in the Merlin's name is it even possible?" he asked with his eyes widened.

In front of him, Alastor Gumboil, a greying man in his forties, and the current head of the Hit-Wizards, shrugged. "When I looked at it first, I thought the boy who had brought it was having a go at me."

Broderick grumbled. "You sure the meter was destroyed altogether?"

"Saw it myself. It was blown to bits."

"Damn, if this is indeed true, and not a glitch in the Flamel's meter, then we may be looking at a threat bigger than Voldemort." Broderick said in grave tone.

"Aye," Alastor nodded. "But sir, what if it is just a ruse by those pesky goblins to instill panic amongst us. After all, the point of source of that monstrous magical energy was identified as Gringotts. And I've heard that they have dragons there."

"An interesting theory. But then again, I don't think goblins would do that."

"Oh, we should never trust them, sir. Don't you remember how devious they were in last goblin rebellion?"

"I remember, vividly in fact. But, I believe we are getting off topic here, Alastor."

"Ah… my apologies, sir."

"Not a problem at all. But let's stop this chit-chat between us and go see Amelia." Broderick said, referring to Amelia Bones, the head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "I think we need to send a squad of Aurors to investigate the matter a little closely." With that said, he began to walk towards her office.

"Yes, let's do that, shall we?" Alastor remarked as he followed Broderick. A moment later, a thoughtful expression crossed his face, "What about Dumbledore, sir? I think he would like to know about this."

"Leave him be. He has enough in his plates for now. Not to mention Saul had something along the lines of him being quite down these days, with the death of Potter kid and all. Now let's make haste for Amelia's office, Alastor."

…..

**Back at Gringotts**

Ripsnare, along with few other goblins watched reluctantly as the dragon they had nurtured since its birth flew away with Harry on its back.

"Why aren't we stopping that boy?" another goblin questioned loudly, with anger laced in his voice. Ripsnare turned his head to see that it was Griphook.

"And risk getting destroyed?" Ripsnare asked evenly.

"He is just ONE wizard!"

"One wizard who killed dozens of elite goblin knights in a blink of an eye!" Ripsnare sharply said. "Don't be mistaken Griphook. I'm also furious. The humiliation we have suffered, it is intolerable. But, you have to understand, that… thing that call itself Harry Potter – it's a monster."

"We have tamed monsters before." Griphook fumed.

Irked, Ripsnare cast an annoyed gaze at the other goblin. "Just leave it, Griphook. If you love your life, then leave it. And before you say anything more, I'm out of here." With that said Ripsnare swiftly turned on his heels and went inside.

**A/n: A relatively short chapter, in which I'm trying to establish the fact that Harry is not someone who can be dealt by ordinary persons. **

**And, as for where I was for all this time… well, without boring you guys with details, I'll just say life happened. And also, on a somewhat grim note, now I've realized why there is a saying – Nobody is virgin, life fucks everyone.**

**By the way, I will really appreciate if someone could explain to me about Gate of Babylon, Gilgamesh's treasure vault – mainly, about the blades and other weapons contained in it. I am not clear about things like: whether all weapons are just prototypes or some are real, and does it also have prototypes of modern era weapons and if not, up to what era's weapons are in there. **

**Wiki is nice and all, but I can't seem to grasp everything that it says. So, if anyone who is familiar with Nasuverse, please PM me. **


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